


could be heaven (right here on my knees)

by Anonymous



Category: Black Panther (2018), Black Panther (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom T'Challa (Marvel), Cock Slut, Explicit Sexual Content, Forest Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Black Panther (2018), Rain Sex, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: T’Challa swallowed silently. “Did you summon me--away, as you say--just so I can satisfy you? To suck your dick in the middle of the forest?”“If I had?” M’Baku asked, nostrils flared. “Would that be so terrible? Would you really mind so much?”
Relationships: M'Baku/T'Challa (Marvel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 102
Collections: Anonymous





	could be heaven (right here on my knees)

Rain had begun to fall by the time that T’Challa picked his way through the dense, dark green jungle that dotted the outer perimeter of the Golden City. He had become unused to running between the trees without his suit shielding him from the elements, and each sharp, soft splash of rainwater seemed to jolt him half out of his skin as he walked. Cold and calming, it sheened his skin in a thin mist.

T’Challa sighed, glanced around the forest, searching for the clearing that matched M’Baku’s coordinates.

He had spent years getting lost in these trees, playing with the fauna that emerged to keep his mind off the troubles that had brought him out here in the first place. It had been years since he had returned to it, though.

Had there always been so many shadows? They darted from leaf to leaf, soaked into the soil underfoot.

T’Challa stopped and rested his palm against a nearby tree. The rain still fell fine enough to fog around him. His hand paled. He blinked at the back of it, skin next to bark; how everything went grey when he focused on one thing for more than a few seconds.

“How did I know to come looking for you?”

That voice--he’d been bracing for the moment he would hear it again all day, but he hadn’t put the finishing touches on any of those preparations. To be honest, standing with his hand pressed to the tree while he caught his breath and blinked through the rain, T’Challa had yet to convince himself he was even going through with this, in the first place.

He knew himself better than to think otherwise, though.

That’s why he didn’t move when he heard M’Baku approach from behind, with light footsteps despite his size.

Everything about M’Baku seemed a study in contradiction. T’Challa could dedicate an afternoon to analyzing how M’Baku’s arms were so hard when they flexed above him but only offered the warmest, gentlest embraces. How M’Baku’s voice boomed low but never bit or taunted, never stung T’Challa with its pitch. How they could be talking politics one minute--faces stern as if carved from stone over the clash--but breathing the same damp air and suddenly close enough to kiss in another. How he burned T’Challa up from the inside, but when their lips met, it was always _cool_ …

The thought shivered its way down the back of T’Challa’s neck, where he felt M’Baku’s gaze settle when his feet went quiet again.

There was enough space between them to fit only their resolve. The rain never fell any harder, sweet like soft breaths on his skin.

“Maybe you became aware of how foolish it is to meet outside when it’s forecasted to rain all afternoon,” T’Challa said. As though that actually bothered him at all.

More and more lately, he found himself thankful for every storm that passed through the city. Thunder and deluge distracted him better than most. There was a placating energy to them that lulled him when not much else could.

“Maybe,” M’Baku said, stepping closer towards T’Challa’s back. His voice came from over T’Challa’s head, and if T’Challa closed his eyes, he could perfectly recall the trim beard that smoothed over his jaw, the same auburn accents at his hairline, framing smiling lips. “Or maybe, contrary to what you may believe, some things are simply not within our control.”

M’Baku let the slightest smile edge into his voice. He stepped closer to T’Challa. His chest grazed the back of T’Challa’s jacket--blue-black leather that glistened under the rain.

T’Challa caught his breath then straightened up, turned to face M’Baku and see for himself what exactly was so funny about the situation.

M’Baku didn’t give him the chance. As soon as their eyes locked, he fit his hands against T’Challa’s cheeks. A gesture both warm and stinging, with his fingers pressing hot into skin.

“Let’s not fight, kitten. That’s not why I asked you here,” M’Baku said. He was sturdy when T’Challa’s knees began to tremble.

From excitement. From anticipation.

“Where is here?” T’Challa asked.

There was nothing particularly distinct about this area aside from the fact that it lay on the outskirts of the city--but plenty of other areas also bordered the capital. And there was nothing particularly distinct about the surrounding half-mile, either.

This was just a clearing in the woods like any other, a place where an animal might go to lick its wounds, where the vines were known to have been untouched for years.

Potentially dangerous for its isolation, though. The city couldn’t even be seen through the fog of the rain and density of the trees.

Not that T’Challa anticipated that any harm would come to him while he was in M’Baku’s arms. Not anymore, at least.

He blinked slow like a sleepy cat as he stared into the deep, churning brown of M’Baku’s eyes. They were so intent on him that T’Challa almost felt shy under them, but he eventually got an answer.

“It’s away.” M’Baku smiled wider before letting it fade altogether and dropping one arm to wrap around T’Challa’s waist.

He pressed his thumb lightly to the lower curve of T’Challa’s lip, his skin chilled from dots of light rain.

T’Challa swallowed silently. “Did you summon me--away, as you say--just so I can satisfy you? To suck your dick in the middle of the forest?”

“If I had?” M’Baku asked, nostrils flared. “Would that be so terrible? Would you really mind so much?”

His finger dipped past T’Challa’s lip, skin against teeth until he pulled his hand away.

T’Challa narrowly evaded the urge to roll his eyes and stomp his feet in protest of having to say it aloud. He was learning to expect that from M’Baku--learning how much he liked it but also how unused to saying it that he still was, sometimes.

“I would not mind that. I would _enjoy_ that,” he said.

M’Baku let out a small laugh. “Then you'll do it for me.”

They pressed close, chests touching, under shielding trees as the world narrowed in around them. T’Challa shifted in M’Baku’s arms until he could feel the heat of distance closed between near-damp clothes.

“Yes,” T’Challa said. His fingers drifted down the breadth of M’Baku’s chest. “I think I will.”

M’Baku didn’t respond. He didn’t move under T’Challa’s hand, didn’t smile anymore when it trailed the length of his torso then dipped under his long, fitted shirt.

Skin to skin, fingertips to abdomen.

T’Challa kissed the corner of M’Baku’s jaw. Too careful to be bashful but still delighted to be touching him this way after so long--how long, too long…

He smoothed his way down to his knees and caught at M’Baku’s hand. It fell to cup his chin, turn his face up so they looked intently at each other.

“Do you need something?” T’Challa worked his pants free, shifted them down until M’Baku's cock came free. He wrapped his hand around the base, still keeping eye contact.

M’Baku shook his head, speechless for the moment.

T’Challa grinned and got to work, his lips wet as he sucked the head into his mouth. It filled him with warm weight, and he took M’Baku down further, massaging the underside with his tongue until he had to move his hand out of the way.

“That feels so good.” M’Baku bit his lip. “Are you okay?”

T’Challa pulled M’Baku’s dick further into his mouth, all the way to the top of his throat. He didn’t swallow yet, only worked the length between his throat and tongue. It felt like pushing down and breaking up all the problems that he had come here with on his shoulders, and he quickly found himself chasing it, wanting more.

Above him, M’Baku let out a string of whispered curses. He brought both hands to T’Challa’s face, encouraged him along. They got lost in each other so easily when they got like this.

T'Challa choked back as much of M’Baku as he could tolerate and massaged at him in short, wet pulls, with cheeks hallowed. He got more excited the longer that it went on, and M'Baku’s attention came along with that, so he couldn't be happier.

Rain wasn't always bad. In fact, he liked it a lot. They seemed to have a special connection to water—from the falls where they'd fought in ritual combat as well as the ice that kept T'Challa alive after Killmonger had defeated him in that very ritual. It felt like a good omen now after all this time.

Suddenly M’Baku's hands twitched where they framed T'Challa's face, and he let out a quiet curse. “I'm going to come if you keep doing that, kitten,” he said, his voice strained.

T'Challa's eyes flashed up toward his; mouth so full that he couldn't even ask for more. Instead he kept sucking M'Baku’s cock, shortening his strokes to concentrate on his throat massaging the head, until he got what he wanted. M’Baku went still before him and spilled, filled his mouth with pools of hot come which he swallowed all the way down. His lips trembled around the thick, slippery cock in his mouth.

“Lovely,” M’Baku said as he came down from his high. “You're so good at that. Here, let's get you up.” He grabbed T'Challa by the chin with one hand and circled the base of his dick with the other, pulling leisurely out of T'Challa's wet mouth.


End file.
